“No, Julia,” Ziggy intervened. “It’s out of the question. The journey’s too difficult. I’ve booked a hotel. We can rest – maybe leave at say 5am or 6am in the morning.”
“No, no, no!” Julia banged her armrest in frustration. “You said we were going straight there.”
“Come on, it’s after lunch. We’re both tired. It’s not practical to set off today. It gets dark here early.”
“Your friend’s right,” Hill said. “The road is dangerous. I can’t drive you there and back before dark. Anyway, I must spend time with my family this evening. My wife’s parents have come to the City for a visit and are having dinner with us. It’s more than my life’s worth not to be there.”
Ziggy laughed enjoying the joke, but Julia set her mouth in a grim line.
Why do I always feel the joke’s on me?
“Frustrating, I know, but what choice do we have Julia?” Ziggy leaned towards her. “We can’t drive ourselves along such a treacherous route.”
Bet we could if you wanted to, Julia thought, but held her tongue. Finding Laura was the only thing that mattered. I guess one more night won’t be the end of the world.
The car pulled up in front of a hotel. Hill got out. They followed to the Reception. Ziggy went to the desk to check them both in.
While they waited Hill said to Julia, “This is called the Elephant Trunk Hill Hotel – best views in the City. You can see water, mountains and most important, you almost close enough to touch famous Elephant Trunk Hill.
Ziggy joined them with two electronic keys, one of which he handed to Julia.
He shook hands with Hill. “We’ll say goodbye and see you at 5am tomorrow morning for an early start.”
“I’ll be waiting outside. I’ll bring plenty of cold water. We’ll need it.”
They watched him leave.
Ziggy turned to Julia, “Let’s go to our rooms, freshen up. Then maybe take a walk and come back for some early dinner here. The top-floor terrace restaurant is famous.”
Julia was all out of choices, so she followed him to the lift. They parted when the doors opened, Ziggy turning left and Julia following the signs pointing right.
Wonder if he asked for rooms apart to be tactful, she thought, even though she was past caring.
An icy blast hit her as she stepped inside one of the most luxurious rooms she had ever stayed in.
Huckleberry Finn, this is huge. More a suite than a room, she thought as she inspected the accommodation. Two double beds, two settees, a dressing room and writing table. The bathroom was enormous, with vast walk-in shower and marble bath.
Julia threw herself on the bed to see how soft it was. It was so exquisitely comfortable she lay there for half-an-hour, relaxing her aching body. Her mind, though, kept running through troubled thoughts. How did the police know they were on that train? How had Ziggy managed to persuade them to leave them alone? Why must their journey to the mountains be postponed yet again?
She relaxed a little when she finally hauled herself off the bed and stepped into the shower. Can’t deny, it’s rather pleasant to enjoy some comfort and pampering for a change, she thought, wallowing under the cool power shower, before wrapping a thick, baby soft towel around her head, and stepping into a silk dressing gown.
An hour later Ziggy called. She agreed to meet him in Reception in 15 minutes. It was already getting dark.
“They lose the light so early,” he said. “Hill was right. Impossible to start tonight. Let’s take a walk, see a few sights then go back and eat.”
Guilin lit up after dark, with gardens, trees, boulevards and lakes an ever changing rainbow of colour. Julia associated light shows with cheap tourist traps, but these were different. The Guilin illuminations were magical – spellbinding.
The streets were crowded with tourists, but none had Western features – as if she were the only European in the heaving City that night.
“It’s busy because it’s festival time, and a popular destination for holidays,” Ziggy said.
“Everyone’s Chinese,” Julia realised how stupid that sounded even before the words left her lips.
“Not exactly. China’s an enormous continent comprising many different ethnic groups and nationalities. You should join the Communist Party if you want to pretend all Chinese are the same and all one race. Particularly in a place like this, you would be very far from the truth. And don’t forget,” he pointed to his right. “Vietnam is just over there.”
She started looking more closely at the faces of the people she passed and saw he was right. They displayed a wide variety of ethnic features, although which region of the vast Chinese empire they came from she could not say. She saw the wide features and high bone structure reminiscent of films about Genghis Khan and the Moguls. I guess their past lies in Mongolia. Many had the broad cheeks and smooth skins she knew were associated with the Han dynasty, and the dominant features of the Chinese. They’re no different from us, with our mix of English, Irish, Scottish, French, Anglo Saxon and Viking, she thought. The whole world’s a melting pot.
“I feel conspicuous and very far from home,” she said to Ziggy.
“There you’d be right. Unlikely you’ll find any other Brits in the city tonight. Sometimes a few Europeans visit. The French like this area. If it’s company of your own kind you hunger for, I’m the closest you’ll find.”
“Hardly,” she laughed.
They walked round the tree-lined lake and admired the illuminated twin pagodas in the middle – dazzling shrines. Crowds of beautifully dressed families mobbed the lake, taking snaps.
“Are they dressed in their holiday clothes? The ladies look lovely,” Julia asked, admiring the pretty chiffon and silk dresses and casual Western clothes of the men.
“You mean they don’t all look like oppressed communists?”
Julia giggled at the joke on her. “Am I really that bad?”
Ziggy shook his head with good humour. They meandered away from the lake to the main street of what looked like the old town. Julia found herself confronted by an unremittingly Chinese scene – shops selling food and clothes of all kind. Many were piled high with fruit and vegetables, some of which she nearly recognised – others she could not guess at. Similarly the fish stalls. She couldn’t recognise the various ocean animals, but was bewitched by their grotesque beauty. Colours vivid and strange – blacks, greens and brilliant reds. Many tanks held live crustaceans, fish and snakes.
Julia saw animals moving in cages outside a couple of shops - mainly poultry.
“What’s that?” she asked pointing to a cage of scaly creatures.
“Pangolins. They shouldn’t be here. The Chinese use them in medicines. Not good.”
“Are they?” Julia said, passing more cages.
“Bats yes. Come on, let’s go back to the hotel.”
“No, just a bit further, there’s a market down here. I’d like to see what they’re selling.”
They meandered by medicine shops aplenty, rice and noodle stalls, and signs for restaurants, down a street bustling with happy Chinese families enjoying the warm evening. When they reached the market, Julia took a sharp intake of breath.
“Epic,” she said to Ziggy, sucking up the patterns of reds, golds, and greens, decorating the stalls. I couldn’t be anywhere but China, she thought.
Yet when she looked closely at the merchandise, the clothes, bags and other market fare, she felt crestfallen. I can buy all or any of this in a market at home.
“Disappointed?” Ziggy asked, watching her puzzled expression.
“Why should I be? Everything we buy’s made in China. Why would things be different here?”
He smiled, “Come on, I’m hungry, let’s go back.”
They caught the lift straight to the roof-top terrace restaurant overlooking the spectacular Elephant Trunk Hill, lit by waves of ever-changing colours – first green then blue, then yellow, crimson, red and scarlet.
“You haven’t asked why it’s call
ed Elephant Trunk Hill,” Ziggy said, as a waitress came to the table. “Shall I order a bottle of white?”
Julia nodded. “It’s fabulous. The view – absolutely breathtaking. And the mountains in the distance. They’re...what can I say? Thank you for bringing me here. I mean that Ziggy. Thank you.”
“The one right in front of you –” he pointed to the nearest peak.
“Yes I know – shaped like an elephant trunk. The whole thing’s magical, like a fairyland. I could stay here forever.”
“Well, you can’t.”
“Tomorrow we head into the mountains.”
“Tonight we can enjoy,” Ziggy said. “The food is good. There’s a Chinese buffet or we can go a la carte?”
Julia looked at the menu, then closed it, laying it flat on the table. “Can’t understand a word.”
“No worries, I’ll order a selection.”
He did, and it was delicious. Julia sat charmed as the light melted from colour to colour. Hypnotic.
Everything about Guilin was hypnotic.
CHAPTER 41
Wednesday August 25
ZIGGY AND JULIA emerged from the hotel at 5am the following morning. Hill waited for them as promised. Bleary-eyed, they exchanged minimal courtesies. Ziggy sat in the front. Julia was happy to put distance between them, so climbed in behind the driver. The streets were deserted, the hum and bustle of the previous evening spent. Progress was swift and they were soon leaving a sleepy Guilin behind.
Hill’s steady speed swallowed mile after mile through low plains and fields as they headed for the mountains. The rising sun unleashed a blazing tongue across the landscape, like a slow dragon roar, gradually filling the dawn with light.
It was going to be a long day, so Julia closed her eyes and dozed lightly. She came to, when the car began to climb. Her spirits lifted as they navigated a path through the mountains.
Is it possible, this time we’ll find Laura? So near and yet so far. Will this be our lucky break?
To this point, finding Laura was Julia’s exclusive goal. Now that hope had a prospect of becoming reality, a chill ran through her.
What will I say to her and what next?
Julia opened the window a crack, closed it and opened it again. Then she flicked her phone open and closed repeatedly.
I can see it now, she thought. London journalist in madcap rescue of courageous doctor risking her life in a treacherous part of the world. She’ll think I’m mad!
“You OK in the back?” Ziggy asked, distracted by her jittering.
“Yes thanks, how much further Hill?” Julia looked out the window at the spectacular backdrop. They were climbing fast. Her ears popped.
“We’ve made good time. Maybe another half-hour. Would you like me to adjust the air-con?”
“No it’s fine,” Julia closed the window again.
Ziggy spoke next. “We’re looking for a doctor. Any thoughts where to begin?”
“There’s a sanatorium a little way from the Yao village. If she’s not there, they may know where she is.”
The landscape was dotted with isolated, wooden houses, balanced on stilts, tiny against the gigantic peaks.
“Reminds me of Switzerland – wooden houses built into the mountains – or maybe Austria,” Julia said, looking back down the sharp assent.
“It’s the traditional way to build houses since before anyone can remember. The ground floor is storage, with families living on the first and second floors in case of flooding. Take a look over there,” Hill pointed into the distance. “These modern brick developments are built by the People’s Republic of China. They want to move ethnic people from their homes, make them like everyone else.”
“What do the Yao think?”
“It’s difficult. Life’s not easy, and many, like my wife, move away. The Yao are happy people. Their outlook is simple. They have a deep-rooted faith in Daoism. They value harmony, balance and the power of nature.”
“Doing nothing is better than being busy doing nothing,” Ziggy nodded with a smile.
“So my wife is always telling me. As for the Yao. They are heavily-incentivised to go to the new developments. Some go, some stay.”
The road turned sharply upwards. Hill climbed steeply and they entered a small town, bursting with colour and vitality, like a carnival. Long four-storey, red wood buildings ran along both sides of the dirt track. Like medieval coaching inns – Julia thought, with airy galleries running along the front of each floor. She knew the George Inn in Borough well.
Here in the mountains, wooden shutters flapped open. No glass anywhere. Life a free-for-all conducted on the broad verandas, like main streets, running along the full length. Men with flat faces sat at tables with a drink in front of them. Women wrestled with household chores, laughing raucously together, as they beat carpets, washed laundry in tubs, weaved and baked rice in outdoor stoves – hair piled high on their heads. Children in ethnic dress ran out to see who was passing.
“We’ll keep going to the sanatorium. Perhaps we can return here for lunch.” Hill rammed through the gears to get some extra kick for the last stretch of the steep climb.
“The people look different – not Chinese at all,” Julia said from the back.
Hill seemed irritated. “How many times must I tell you. There is no such people as Chinese, any more than there is such a race as European.”
Ouch! Mustn’t make that mistake again. “Sorry you’re right,” she apologised, as the car swung before what looked like a modern clinic.
Hill parked in front of the building and switched off the engine. He pointed ahead and said, largely to Ziggy, “There’s the Reception. They should be able to help you. Manage on your own?”
“Sure,” Ziggy got out the car, and waited for Julia so they could walk in together. Julia’s stomach muscles tightened. Her palms started to sweat, even though it was cooler here in the mountains. They entered the hospital, both masked, and headed for Reception. Ziggy addressed a woman in a mask, his eyes crinkling into a smile. She picked up the telephone.
Julia swallowed hard. Could this be it? Had they found her?
The Receptionist replaced the handset, and spoke to Ziggy. He replied in Chinese then turned to Julia beaming.
“She’s here,” he translated. “She’ll see us. Fate favours us at last. She has a gap now, so we must be quick.”
The Receptionist moved from her post, signalling for them to follow her down a corridor on the left.
Julia raised a hand. “No Ziggy. You stay here. This is my interview and my quest.”
“But Julia,” he tried to protest.
“My way or no way.”
“Do as you must,” Ziggy clenched his jaw as anger flashed across his eyes.
The journalist followed the Receptionist, who stopped at a door with a nameplate in Chinese – knocked, then stood aside for Julia to enter.
Laura was sitting at her desk, framed by a large window looking out across to the mountains. The petite, dark-haired, almost childlike figure peered up and smiled. She looked frail, as though she had been ill.
In that instance, Julia knew why Patrick Silverman loved her, why Rebecca loved her. Why Hugo, Crisp, Kathy, why everyone she asked about Laura at one level or another loved her. Julia recognised it immediately.
She has that special something. Saint – Angel. That spark, that magical moon dust, we none of us understand, yet never fails to bewitch.
“My name’s Julia Lighthorn,” Julia said, standing at the door. “I’ve come a long way to meet you.”
“Well, I hope you’ll think it’s worth it,” she smiled a gentle welcome. “Feel free to take your mask off. I had the virus many months ago, so am now immune. Sit here, you can still keep your distance, for safety’s sake. Now tell me, how can I help you?”
“It’s been such a long journey,” her voice trembled. Suddenly she felt crushed by the strain of it all. “I hardly know where to begin.”
“Well, you’re here now. I c
an see how tired you are. We have plenty of time. Catch your breath. Genuinely, there’s no rush.”
Julia’s bottom lip quivered. She dug her thumbnail into the palm of her hand, exhausted, overwhelmed.
“I’m a journalist,” she began. “A financial journalist. I write about things like the financial crash, analyse what caused it.”
It all seemed so inconsequential so far away.
“The Golden Boys,” Laura seemed to read her mind.
Julia nodded. “That’s where it started. Then Adam Lee was murdered in Soho. Stephen Chandler disappeared.”
“Good God, I had no idea,” she turned her gaze away and stared out the window, as if scrolling her thoughts back in time.
“What did we do?” She shook her head. “I tried to warn them that fateful weekend. We were young – ”
Julia smiled. “I’m not here to judge.”
“Oh judge away. I think of that evening sometimes, when it’s hot and still here in the mountains – the storm raging and waves lashing below that granite castle, imprisoned by the sea. The Golden Boys high in spirits. Thunder...lightning. It all comes back in vivid colours. Skeletons dancing in the stained glass - the devil with his wheel of torment. I knew that night we’d created a monster – the havoc it could cause. I should have stopped them.”
“Could you’ve stopped them?”
Laura placed her hands in her lap, and said softly. “I could’ve tried.”
“Warwick Mantel?”
“Oh yes. Warwick Mantel. He’d never have agreed to put the genie back in the bottle. Sometimes he comes to me in dreams, as Warwick Mammon – one of the seven Princes of Hell.”
Julia raised her eyebrows.
“Obsessed with money,” Laura continued. “His greed knew no limits. He exploited us. And this is where it’s landed us. A busted global economy, and a mini pandemic in the making.”
“Not strictly connected?” Julia said quietly.
“Don’t be so sure. That’s what global means. Money-go-round, greed-go-round, sloppy-go-round, sickness-go-round. Mistakes that could once have been contained locally, like financial contamination, rage out of control. Shadow banks detonating every day in our major cities and shadow clinics hiding among the mountains.”
Take A Thousand Cuts Page 21